


the truth that fell from these lips

by queenwithoutacrown



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenwithoutacrown/pseuds/queenwithoutacrown
Summary: It’s all the little things, happening over the course of time, adding up to one another.*(a collection of various prompted kastle ficlets/one-shots)





	1. some nights

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd post the ficlets here too, for easier availability. Should the rating for a chapter vary from T, I'll put it in the chapter notes.
> 
> Title: Truth - Bloc Party  
> Chapter Title: Some Nights - Fun  
> Prompt: “Can you please come and get me?”

The last glass of bourbon had been a grave mistake.

The daiquiris, the lewdly named shots, the cocktails mixed with beer and wine in no sensible order had surely contributed to the spinning world in front of her eyes, but the last glass had killed her, figuratively.

Karen’s hands tightened around the sink in the filthy toilet. She just needed something to hold on to. In the mirror her cheeks were rosy from all the alcohol, her hair a tangled mess at this late hour. One of her heels was at the brink of breaking off.

She hadn’t really slept for days, she thought. A bed would be nice, she thought too. Karen brushed her hair back. She’d never go out drinking with her colleagues again. But then her day had been shit and they had asked and making your liver weep was a team building activity, after all.

Her footsteps were shaky as stepped out of the restroom, the bar too dark. All she wanted now was to go home. Karen leaned back against a corner and fumbled with her phone, typing in the code incorrectly four times, before finally succeeding.

She scrolled through her contacts, choosing a taxi company on a whim. Walking home was out of question, distance and her shitty heel be damned. Maybe she would invest in more expensive shoes tomorrow. Though she always felt sorry for them when they ultimately get destroyed chasing leads and running for her life.

“Hello?” A gruff voice answered the call.

“Hello, yes, can you send a car to pick me up?” Her voice was only a little slurred.

“Karen?”

Shit. She took the phone away from her ear and looked at the distance. Pete was easily readable from the display.  _Shit._

“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You okay?”

“M'fine, just kinda wasted.” Karen let out a deep sigh. She could just end the call and actually call a taxi. She should do exactly that. But she didn’t want to. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, only passed short secret messages between them. “Can you please come and get me? Of course you don’t have to, I just…”

“Where are you?”

She mumbled the name of the bar and a general direction of the neighbourhood into her phone. Even through the underlying beat of the music she could her the rustling of clothes on his end of the line.

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t leave.”

_Shit._

Emotionally she was nowhere near prepared for this. Out of all the bad idea, all the reckless decisions she made on a daily basis, this could backfire spectacularly. Karen knew she rambled when she was drunk, her friends always used to laugh about it. So Frank picking her up was not a good idea.

She went back to the last of her coworkers, who all were in equal states of intoxication. They all agreed on one last shot of tequila, because fuck it, it didn’t matter anyway.

If the bourbon had been a grave mistake, the tequila was her downfall.

Her phone lit up with an incoming call and Karen said her goodbyes, shrugging into her coat and stumbling out of the bar. The neon light above the door outside was bright and colourful, shiny green against the black.

Frank sat in a rusty car, hood drawn up over his head. In a less than graceful movement Karen almost feel over the sidewalk, before she opened the door and slumped into the seat.

“Thanks for picking me up,” she said. She was truly grateful. Did her voice sound slurred or was that just to her ears?

He looked at her and his usually so stoically face was less… tense. With a little imagination she could see a smile. Karen wanted to touch the corners of his mouth and pull them up into a smile, her hands hovering in the air between them, but then she though better of it.

It looked weird, and yes, now he really smiled, despite it being difficult to see in the dark.

“No problem. Couldn’t miss that.”

“What?”

Frank started the car, driving out of the parking space. “I’ve never seen you drunk.”

Karen let her head fall against the cool window pane. “You’ve never seen me do a lot of things.” It came out all wrong, too bitter to be casual. The pounding headache in her temples was a few hours early. Maybe she should just stop talking.

He remained silent at her side. “For example?” he said then.

“Dance ballet, bake chocolate souffles, spackle bullet holes in my wall so I can get my deposit back,” she counted on the fingers of her left hand.

“Impressive,” Frank snorted, but left it at that.

Karen sank a little farther back in the seat and closed her eyes. The song on the radio was catchy, some newer stuff and she hummed along to it. Her musical talent grew exponentially with every alcoholic beverage consumed. That, or her inhibition level sunk.

She dozed the whole ride, always aware of his presence behind the steering wheel, but to at ease to fill the silence with conversations they shouldn’t have with her in a state like this.

Frank woke her when he opened her car door for her and stretched out his hand for her to take. Karen did, because it was the sensible thing to do, not because she felt a little dizzy and craved the warmth of his hands.

They walked up the stairs together, their hands linked the entire time. Unlocking the door took time. She couldn’t find her keys first and then second the lock itself. Frank laughed at her the entire time, even more after she shot him dirty looks.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” she said after she’d stepped out of her heels and walked towards her kitchen. She didn’t look at him.

Frank coughed slightly. “I’ve read every article you’ve ever written. I know how you drink your coffee. I’ve seen you shoot a gun. That’s what I can give you right now.”

She turned around, wide-eyed. He faced her, but looked intently at the floor. It was all or nothing. If she wanted she could blame it on the alcohol in her bloodstream, but it would be a lie.

Karen moved towards him, placing a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw line. “Okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll be in the living room, uh, until you fall asleep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Karen.”

(In the morning, when Karen woke with the hangover of a lifetime, he was still there to her surprise. Frank put a glass of water, two Aspirin and a stack of pancakes in front of her and saw her smile in gratitude. Their first breakfast together.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think about it.


	2. see you with a broken set of eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You’d make a great mom”  
> Title: Future Looks Good - OneRepublic

It’s all the little things, happening over the course of time, adding up to one another.

 

*

 

It starts with Leo and the career day at her school. The guideline is to bring somebody to present their job with them and Leo asks for Karen.  _Pete, please._  David’s offended she doesn’t ask him, which makes the whole deal so much funnier.

Frank does ask her, as promised. She does say yes, as expected.

They arrange everything together in the Liebermann’s living room on a Friday evening, while David, Sarah and himself drink rosé en masse. Basically like any group work he’s ever been part of, if he’s honest. It’s nice, calm, ordinary. Still, his hands shake from time to time.

Watching them work has him at the edge of his seat, an emotion he can’t name lodged in his ribcage. Karen’s so gentle, explaining every detail for the presentation and Leo’s such a bright kid, they get on immediately.

He knows David’s throwing not so subtle glances at him across the diner table, feels the weight of them with every sip of wine. He ignores it. He doesn’t think about it at all. He laughs when he’s supposed to, drinks glass after glass, just looks. He pretends it works.

It almost does.

 

*

 

There’s a little girl with her fuzzy blonde hair and one of those hairbands with a ribbon and she’s staring at Karen as if she’s the eight wonder of the ancient world.

Not that Frank can blame her, Karen’s always stunning, especially on a Sunday morning with the sunlight framing her face. The diner they’re having brunch at is little frequented, but the coffee’s good and that quite literally all that counts.

Karen makes a silly face at the girl, who giggles in return. It looks so natural, organic. She’s just so damn good at it, smiling from one ear to another. He swallows his coffee, the taste stale on his tongue.

The thing’s this, they don’t ever talk about the future. They live in the moment, as fucking stupid as it sounds. Sometimes they’ve conversations about their pasts, about what they’ve done, when they need to find absolution in each other. Mostly they enjoy each other’s company.

He loves her, she loves him. It’s that easy, even when they fight because they’re both too stubborn for their own good.

But then she smiles at the little girl again and suddenly it’s not so easy anymore. Because Karen’s really good at this and he just doesn’t know what she wants and he’s too scared to ask. It’s Pandora’s box, once its open everything’s out.

Frank smiles at them, just as the parents of the little girl do. “Sorry,” Karen apologizes with a laugh, to them and him, resuming her breakfast.

He reaches over, grasping her hand in his. It’s meant to be reassuring, for him, for her.

He doesn’t know what it means.

 

*

 

Other people have meditation CD’s and shit, he’s got Karen steadily typing an article, the keystrokes like notes in a concert. Peaceful tranquillity, the calm after the storm, after the gunfire ends.

The doorbell rings and suddenly the neighbour from upstairs hands Karen her baby boy and a diaper bag, claiming a family emergency. Suddenly there is a baby in their apartment. It’s not like she can say no.

Still she looks over her shoulder directly at him, the concerned look in her eyes speaking volumes. Asking him if it’s alright. Frank nods in confirmation and marks the page in his book, before leaning forward on the arm chair.

“Guess that’s a thing we’re doing then?”

“Babysitting?”

Karen laughs. “His name is Henry, it’s just for a few hours.”

She’s entertaining him easily enough, heating up a bottle of formula and rocking him to sleep, all the while Frank watches out of the corners of his eyes. Karen doesn’t ask for help, he doesn’t offer. He reads fifty pages of his book and can’t remember a single word.  

It’s just that the image of Karen settled against the couch, the baby fast asleep on her chest, it makes him yearn for something far out of reach. It could be like this, but it won’t ever be.

She notices him staring. “What?”

“You’d make a great mom, you know,” he tells her very, very quietly. And it’s not because he doesn’t want to wake the boy, not only at least.

Karen shifts, distributing the weight of Henry better against her chest. “Thanks.” Her cheeks blush at the compliment.

He blinks, wrings his hands, struggles to breathe. He’s got to ask her, now or one day it doesn’t matter. “You ever want kids?”

Her mouth opens in surprise, before she casts her eyes downward. “ _Frank._ ” It’s all she says. Her fingers pick at loose threads in the cushion next to her.

He’s not going to pressure her into giving him an answer, hell it took him ages to even form the right words, but he wants it be known that he asked. Running from this might hurt her one day and it’s the last thing he ever wants to do.

They both walked into this relationship with their eyes open, it’s supposed to stay that way.

“My life’s not really at point where I am ready for kids,” Karen says eventually. Her eyes are trained at him, as if she knows he can sense the cop out.

“What about the future?”

“In a hypothetical future, when my life’s not constantly in danger and I’m not working all the time, I’d like to be someone’s mother I think.” A kind look only ever reserved for him spreads over her features.

“And am I a part of this hypothetical future?”

“Frank.”

“I just want to know…”

“You can’t just blame this all on me,” she snaps. The baby stirs, but stays asleep. Karen sinks further in the couch, one hand rubbing gentle circles on the boy’s back. “Of course I want you in my future, Frank. But I can’t make your decisions for you.”

He scrubs his hands over his face, rubbing his tired eyes.  _Jesus_. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Her tone’s soft when she speaks again. “My life’s not gonna end if I don’t have kids, you know. But I’ve thought about it, about us specifically. You should know that.”

He nods, head still buried in his hands. “I can’t promise you I’ll be ready for it ever again. It’s fucking terrifying.”  

“I know, that’s okay. We’re just gonna work it out when we cross that particular bridge, like we always do. We’ve got time.”

Finally, Frank looks up again. Still the sight is a punch to the gut and something out of his wildest dreams all at once. “It’s not that I don’t  _want_ , okay. That’s what  _you_ should know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, crosses the distance and presses a lingering kiss on her temple. Inhales the scent of her shampoo, coconut. Yeah, they’ve got time.


	3. the saints we see are all made of gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: Demons - Imagine Dragons  
> Prompt: “I didn’t do it! ”

The darkness was eating her alive, shadows and smoke. One singular source of light, bright and blinding. She shivered. Brett Mahoney glared at her, frown wrinkles on his forehead.

“I’m disappointed in you,” he said all too casually. “I believed in you. But there’s nothing but blood on your hands.”

“I didn’t do it,” she yelled, though she wasn’t even sure what she was defending herself against. Her heart was beating out of her chest.

The light in the room on the other side of the two-way mirror was switched on. There they stood, a gallery of judgement. Her father. Kevin. Wesley, blood seeping from the bullet wounds in his chest. Ben. Matt, holding his mask in his hands. They watched, silently.

A door opened, Fisk strutting in, directly heading towards her. His hands wrapped around her neck, strangling her. She struggled, for air, fighting for her life. She trashed, limbs crashing against hard surfaces.

Karen opened her eyes. Nausea roiled in her stomach, her lungs fighting for air. She fell out of bed, her knees hitting a hard corner, and threw up nothing but bile into the waste paper basket.

Her hands trembled like autumn leaves in a thunder storm. The lingering remnant of her dream blended with the very real memory of what had happened in a jail cell so many months ago. Sometimes she still saw angry red marks against her throat.

The sound of her bedroom door opening gave her quick scare, before she saw Frank with a gun standing in the threshold. She’d forgotten he’d camped out on her couch tonight, after their Netflix binge the evening before.  _Perfect._

“Nobody’s here, you can take the gun down,” she told him after her voice returned, still hoarse.

“I heard you scream.” It sounded like an apology.

She closed her eyes for just a moment. “Happens. Sorry I woke you.”

“Not what I’m worried about right now.”

Her legs were still jelly, but she straightened herself and pushed past him and into her bathroom. Karen grabbed the bottle of neon blue mouthwash and gargled a healthy amount of it. Everything just to get the acid taste out of her mouth.

Frank stood in her doorframe once again; the perfect metaphor for his presence in her life. Present in the moment, but gone in a flash if need be. His gaze felt heavy on her skin. The gun was nowhere to be seen.

All she wanted was to turn back time, wake up before he could hear her like this, see her like this. She could barely look in the mirror, let alone at him. Falling apart was meant to be a private occurrence.

Whatever went on inside his head, it didn’t reflect on his face. He was a stoic statue, a silent guardian in the entrance of her bathroom. If she wasn’t so shaken, she’d find it funny.      

“Karen, this-,” he gestured between the two of them, “ain’t a one way street. You need to talk about something, I’ll listen.”

She knew, of course. The truth had never come easier then when she was with him. But where was she supposed to start?  _I am the angel of death, everything I touch dies._

She wasn’t afraid of his reaction to what she’d done. If there was a single person in her life, a single soul who’d understand without judgement, it would be him.

But opening her mouth and letting the words flow, actually speaking them out aloud would make it real. The facade would fall and she’d never be able to take it back again.

“People tend to underestimate me,” she settled upon in the end.

“I noticed.”

_Maybe it’s not your first rodeo._

“Remember what we talked about in that diner?”

_Maybe it isn’t._

Frank nodded without hesitation.

“I shot James Wesley.”

It was worth noting that he didn’t blink, only tilted his head slightly. “That was the name of Fisk’s right-hand man.”

“The first shot was self-defence, every court in the world would’ve acquitted me of charge. The other six were something else.” Karen took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing. “He was a threat to my friends, to me, and I took care of it.”

She absently rubbed her fingers against her throat, her neck. Keep talking, she thought to herself. If she stopped now, she’d never start again.

“I don’t regret what I did, whatever that says about me. But Fisk usually… murders me in my dreams, strangles me, like, like…” Her voice just broke. “Ben Urich, he worked for the Bulletin. I sit in his office now, how fucked up is that?”  

She hadn’t said his name for too long, it all came back, like a car crashing into a brick wall on full speed.

“Karen.”

She clamped her hand over her mouth, a tell she’d never been able to give up. Felt the wetness of her tears. “You look at me as if I didn’t just confess a murder to you. And it’s not even the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

He stepped forward, careful to not touch her. But he closed the distance between them. “If I’m worth saving in your eyes, then so are you. No matter what you’ve done to stay alive,” was all he said.

Frank took the last step, leaning forward. Forehead on forehead, their noses bumping together. “Fisk will never hurt you. We’ll take care of that.”

Karen clung to his upper arms, letting his warmth wash away the horrors of a bad night’s sleep. Whatever they had or hadn’t wasn’t about pity or forgiveness. Breathing became a lot easier when you could share the loneliness.


	4. so baby pull me closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Closer - Chainsmokers feat. Halsey  
> Prompt: "Are you high?"

David Lieberman dumps him on her doorsteps on a late Friday afternoon.

Karen would compare it to leaving a foundling behind - wrapped in blanket, laid in a wooden basket with a heartfelt letter, but the man actually stays with Frank until she comes home from work. And well, there’s no wickerbasket. Or a farewell letter.

The oversized hoodie Frank is wearing resembles a blanket though.

She’s standing in front of her apartment door, keys firmly grasped between her fingers, and the two men are a barrier separating her from a quiet weekend. Karen can quite literally feel it running through her fingers like water.

“Look, it’s your girlfriend,” he says to Frank, who doesn’t look all that well. He’s kind of sunk into himself, leaning against the wall. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. But he’s alive and that’s one worry less on her list. David faces her then. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m David.”

It’s wrong on so many levels, the way he calls her ‘girlfriend’, so familiar and nonchalantly, as if he’d done it a hundred times before. As if they’d had whole conversations about her, when she hasn’t seen him in weeks. When she hasn’t even met David in person until ten seconds ago.

“I know who you are.”

“Yeah, right. So do I.” He scratches his head, messing up the already messy locks. “I’m here because, you see Mr. Tall, Dark and Terrifying, he’s got a mild case of pneumonia. It’s not life-threatening, he’s got antibiotics and stuff, but he needs some rest.”

“What did you just call me?” Frank interrupts them. It’s a low rumble coming from his chest, slurred and unclear. He’s coughing, turning his head away from them and into his shoulder.

“Are you high?” Karen asks, directed at him.

Frank closes his eyes, says “No”, while David sighs and says “Yes. Heavy pain killers.”

“Fantastic,” she mutters under her breath. They make a weird pair, the two of them together. But there’s obviously trust between them. He’s got a hand on Frank’s shoulder, keeping him steady against the wall.

“I promised my family a weekend getaway and our friend here wouldn’t recognize good timing if it punched him in the face. So…”

“So you’re asking me to babysit him?”

He nods. “I’m a little scared he might stop breathing when he’s all alone, ya know? He had a pneumothorax not long ago and, look, I wouldn’t ask this of you if…”

They watch each other in silence. Pneumothorax means collapsed lungs, broken ribs probably. It means a fight she hasn’t been part of. Frank seems weakened, but not on the brink of death. It’s more than she’d hoped for.

She’s curious though what David wants to say, how the sentence was supposed to end. The look on his face is undefinable, unsure, lost in thought. David clicks his tongue, letting out a blow of air. “He trusts you with his life.”

A hand wraps around David’s face, likely to shut him up, but Frank misses and catches his jaw instead. “I can hear you, I’m right here. Shut the fuck up.” Almost every word is interrupted by a coughing fit, so it misses the intended effect.

Karen clamps a hand over her own mouth, trying to suppress her laughter. It’s not funny, not in the least, but her sense of humour has taken some severe hits in the last few months. And the relief to see him, not dead in a morgue, it plays into it  as well.

She pushes past the two of them, unlocking the door and opening it wide. “Have fun with your family. I’ll keep him alive.”

David beams at her. “Thank you. We’ll invite you over for dinner some time.”

“I’m not a fucking plant,” Frank grumbles, but he walks ahead of her into her apartment anyway. She pats him gently on the back.

 

*

 

It’s a little awkward.

The last time they’ve seen each other the air had been charged with an unnameable tension, adrenaline running high through their bodies. Now there’s silence, only disturbed by Frank’s coughs.

He’s pacing the small space between the couch and the kitchen, just like he did the first them he’d been here. Karen changes out of her work clothes and into comfortable sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt as fast as possible. When she steps back out of her bedroom, she notices they are matching.

So does Frank.

“Come on, my bed’s a lot more comfortable than the couch. Your ribs are gonna need it.” She cocks her head in the direction of the door.

“That pickup line ever worked for you?”

Despite the circumstances she feels herself blushing, warmth rising to her cheeks. The intensity of his gaze on her, even subdued with the cloudiness of the analgetics, it’s getting to her.

“It’s gonna work now,” she retorts. It’s a fine line between authority and flirting, she’s not so much dancing on the tightrope, more drunkenly stumbling and hoping the net will catch her when she falls.

And it does, Frank walks into the bedroom without another word. He surveys the room, the bed, everything. But he keeps standing next to her, still as a statue.

“I’ll make some tea. Make yourself comfortable.” Karen leaves him to himself, maybe he’ll move then. She finds tea, something herbal she can’t remember buying. A gift, perhaps, but that’s just a wild guess. It doesn’t smell stale.

The water boiler is loud, louder than usual she imagines. The apartment feels smaller. Frank’s in her bedroom, but his presence spreads throughout it all, like a sea of fog over a landscape.

She prepares two mugs and carries them to him. He’s moved in the meantime and switched on the bedside lamp. Seeing Frank with her covers pulled up to his shoulders does something funny to her insides. It is her turn now to simply stand and watch, without a plan on how to continue this.

“Here.” Karen hands over the mug gingerly, not wanting to burn him.

“Thanks.”  

“Get some rest, I’ll be outside in case you need anything.”

She turns before he can reply anything, turning off the lights on her way out. She leaves the door ajar, so he can yell. The bewildered look on his face stays with her.

Sitting on her couch, she breaths.

There’s only bullshit on TV and she can’t find a single show on Netflix that holds her attention. All her stories are finished at the moment, it would’ve been really a quiet weekend.

Now she’s just a guest in her own place. He has the habit of leaving her unbalanced, moving all the furniture two inches to the right.

David’s words come back to her mind and she can’t make any sense of it. His utter belief in her, it leaves her just as puzzled. And Frank must’ve agreed to it to some degree, because Karen can’t imagine getting him into a car unwillingly, pneumonia or not.

Eventually she can’t handle it any longer. Karen puts on a face mask, paints her nails, tidies the kitchen, makes soup out of the vegetables she finds in her fridge. Motion has always helped her focus, not losing the bigger picture.

She’s quiet all the while, peeking through the bedroom door every half hour to check if Frank’s still breathing. When she’s done she wakes him up, soup and bread and a glass of water all carried to the bed.

His hair’s sticking up in weird places and he’s got the imprint of the pillow on his face. He reaches into the pockets of his hoodie and pulls out three different medication packages.

“Time for the antibiotics,” he mumbles. He follows the two pills with one from the other package. “I hate being sick.”

“Because you hate being out of control?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

He seems more lucid now, more like himself. Better. They eat together on her bed, spooning soup and dipping bread. It’s a little messy and quiet, but they do smile at each other.

Afterwards she just puts everything in the sink and hides it under a dish towel. It’s too late for another burst of motivation. Night has long fallen over Hell’s Kitchen, the glow of the street lamps reaching up through the windows.

“What are you doing?” He startles her, even though Karen knows exactly he’s laying in the bed behind her.

She pulls out a spare blanket from her closet. “Going to bed?”

“You plan to sleep on the couch?”

The tightrope vanishes, there’s no net to catch her. The implication in his voice is pretty clear, but she nods regardless.

“Don’t.”

“Are you still high?”

“No.” She raises an eyebrow, his mouth rises in a half smirk. “I’m not lying now.”

“Has that pickup line ever worked for you?”

“It’s gonna work now,” he replies effortlessly.

She rises from her crouched position in front of her closet, moves towards her bed in slow motion. If he wants to change his mind then there’s still time, he’s still got a choice. But no words leave his lips.

Karen lifts the covers, warm from his body heat. She climbs onto the bed, shifting into a comfortable position. Tension’s running high through her muscles. With a click Frank switches off the bedside lamp.

Her heart beats so fast she’s afraid he might hear it, but the darkness makes it easier to relax. To be honest.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

He snorts. “You want to talk now?”

She bites her lip. “Not now. But he called me your girlfriend and…” She trails off, feeling silly. Overthinking has never been any help.

His large hand finds her upper arm, traces down the side of her body and stills on her stomach. “Okay?”

“Hmm.”

“We’ll talk. Tomorrow.”

Karen turns to her side, Frank’s hand moving onto her back. She puts her hands onto his chest, his heart beating just as fast as her own. It’s an embrace, warm and cared, a secluded shelter from reality.  

Tomorrow’s never sounded so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I wish you all a Happy New Year! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Telephone - James Blunt  
> Prompt: “Give me back my phone!”

She shouldn’t have called one of the mayor’s closest friends a ‘liar, cheater and a disgrace to the people of New York City’ on the front page of The Bulletin. But if the shoe fits?

The media circus that’s following that particular avalanche Karen’s caused is a mess, to put it lightly. Whatever, she’ll deal with it. Ellison is forcing two days of vacation one her until things have calmed down again, as if he hadn’t been the one who signed the story off.

From the look of it, she’ll need a month of vacation, because things are most definitely not calming down any time soon. Her inbox is overflowing with mail, the majority overwhelming praise with a few threats here and there. It’s not even that bad.

The real culprit is her phone. She’s put it on silent as soon as the paper had hit the newsstands, but she can’t even check her Twitter account without another incoming call. It’s not a problem per se, simply annoying.

That is, until Karen can’t find her phone anymore.

It’s literally nowhere to be found. She looks for it under every cushion, under the bed, in the fridge, the bathroom. One second it’s in her palm and the next it’s gone.

“Have you seen my phone by chance?” she asks Frank, who’s sprawled all over the couch with a book in his hands.

“Yeah.”

She rises from the crouched position in front of the kitchen shelf and just blinks. He’s unbelievable. “And you make me look for it everywhere without a word? Real classy. Where is it?”

“That’s a good question,” he says and turns over a page.

“What?” There comes no answer from him. Realization dawns on her then. “You hid it.”

“Bingo.”

“Give me back my phone!”

“Nope. The amount of time you spend looking at it is unhealthy, ask Curtis about that some time.”

She huffs at that, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Frank masterfully ignores her where she’s standing, turning another page in his book. He can’t even read that fast.

“I see, the expert is speaking,” she mocks and a shit-eating grin spreads all over his face. Sometimes it’s way too easy, sometimes she forgets who they are and the past they carry. Still, Karen would like her phone back.

Walking over to him, she takes one slow step after another. She bends down, close to his ear and just breaths in and out. “And what would it cost me to get that phone back, huh?” Her voice is low, breathy, entirely on purpose.

His grip on the book tightens, tendons visible on the back of his hand.

“Never pegged you for that kind of woman, Page.”

“I’m full of surprises, don’t you know by now.”

Gently she takes his earlobe between her teeth. Her mouth wanders down his throat, leaving a trail of kisses behind and sucks at the junction of his collarbone. She leaves a hickey in bright purple, the colour the bruises born of violence littering his skin used to be.

But this isn’t war, far from it.

The book falls to the ground with a loud thump.

“Karen.”

She loves it when his voice breaks like this, when she’s the one undoing him like this. She throws one leg over his hip, effectively straddling him. They are pressed together as close as they can get.

“You’ve got a convincing point, I’ll give you that,” he mutters.

Karen closes the distance and shoves her tongue inside his mouth. They make out like clumsy teenagers, her hands roaming all over his body, while his are steady at her hips.

She enjoys this, letting go and falling free. Very few people get to see the woman behind the armour she’s perfected over the years and he’s the one she trusts without a shred of doubt. Sometimes it’s nice to let the fire that’s burning so fiercely consume her from the inside out.

He pulls back carefully, “You know I’d give it back right now if you want to, just say…”

She softens, shuts him up with another kiss. “I know, don’t worry.”

He’s got her, in every way possible, safe inside his arms. She clings to him just the same, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other braced against his sternum.

“Might hide your phone more often now,” he breathes against her lips.

“Don’t you dare.”

But she doesn’t mind it as much just right now, not that she’d ever admit it.

Her hips set a slow pace against crotch. It’s the best kind of torture she can imagine, driving him on the brink of insanity one move at a time. It’s a frenzy, a wildness thrumming through her veins, but neither of them goes any farther.

They are still tentative with each other, afraid to spook and to break something beyond repair. It’s a flaw, falsehood, but every once in a while they are unable to shake it.

Karen kisses him hard, then leans back. She smiles at Frank, who looks just as rumpled as she feels. “You wanna take this to the bedroom?” Her couch is comfortable, sure, but her bed is preferable.

“Please.” It’s a purr, almost.  

She shivers.

She gets off of him, taking his hand, pulling him from the couch and towards her. A dance, of gravity and magnets. Physics in human bodies, in it’s elemental form.

There’s so much gratitude she wants to express, for looking after her when she’s falling head first into the rabbit holes she’s chasing. But not now. He knows, she thinks, as their lips find each other again.

They’ve never been good at words, not even her who earns her bread and butter with it. Not when it comes to Frank.

So they talk without words, talk with their skins, in touches and kisses. A beautiful way to spend the time, to halt the world.

And she doesn’t really need her phone that badly anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think about this <3


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